


Good

by lovelyharringrove



Series: Good [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Dissociation, Guilt, Hallucinations, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Pre-Relationship, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, basically billy's big catholic guilt fest, i cant do multi chaptered shit so.... here have a series lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 06:01:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18585253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyharringrove/pseuds/lovelyharringrove
Summary: Song fic for the song Good by Morphine, which you should check out.





	Good

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics to Good might help you get the vibe of this fic:
> 
> You're good, good, good, good  
> You're good, good, good, you're good
> 
> Somethin' tells me, somethin' tells me  
> Somethin' tells me, you can read my mind  
> Somethin' tells me, somethin' tells me  
> Somethin' tells me, you can read my mind
> 
> Somethin' tells me, you can read my mind  
> Your brain is callin' to me one more time
> 
> Your brain, your brain, your brain  
> Is callin' to me one more time  
> Your brain, your brain, your brain  
> Is callin' to me one more time, you're good
> 
> You push, push, push so good  
> You push, push, push, you're good
> 
> Somethin' tells me, somethin' tells me  
> Somethin' tells me, you can read my mind  
> Somethin' tells me, somethin' tells me  
> Somethin' tells me, you can read my mind
> 
> Somethin' tells me, you can read my mind  
> Your brain is callin' to me one more time  
> Somethin' tells me, you can read my mind  
> Your brain is callin' to me one more time
> 
> Your brain, your brain, your brain  
> Is callin' to me one more time  
> Your brain, your brain, your brain  
> Is callin' to me one more time
> 
> You're good, good, good, so good

He lays like this - one hand curled over his chest, the other behind his head - a lot, after.

  
He’s been spending most of his time like this since he got expelled. One too many fights. He remembers staring at the principles mouth as it moved. Danger. Behavior. Expulsion. He remembers the police chief standing there - they were afraid of him. He’s been remembering too much, things he’s forgotten for a reason.

  
He’s remembering tan skin covered in sand. Hot skin against the hot leather of his car. Walking to the beach at night and sitting. Then, further. His mother’s hair, blonde and bouncing as she carried him in the parking lot. Santa Monica, before LA. His mother, not like she was when she left. Like she was before. Good things. Things that hurt because he can’t have them anymore.

  
But also the bad. Running, til his lungs burned like his back, away, but never far enough. Police. John and Robbie. Back, back, back. Pictures. His mother at the end, skinny and thin-haired. Her hands shaking, reaching out to him. Whispering. _“Baby, I’m gone.”_

  
-

  
Billy drives out to the quarry as soon as he can stand. He sees Neil in the living room. His mother too, standing in the corner, one finger over her lips.

  
The quarry should be quiet, but it isn’t. His mother drags her hand over his shoulder, singing softly. Billy lights a cigarette. Then, he’s on the ground. And he can’t bring himself to stand.

  
Gravel beneath him, digging into his back. The trees overhead are waving to him, skeletons. He hears the water splashing lightly against the rocks, hears Neil’s boots padding along the floor, hears his mother begging, over and over, hears the priest chanting over him.

  
He remembers the priest, at the boys home. Remembers the boys. All too skinny and too scared. All could recite any verse of the bible. He could too, still can.

  
He opens his mouth, feeling pain in his fingers where the cigarette had long burned out. He coughs, rasping out what he remembers clearest.

  
“Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry. Because of these, the wrath of God is coming.”

  
And he’s so cold, so cold, and he feels the rain coming down, washing him. His mother runs her hands through his hair, touches his face softly. His hands wrap around the cross he always wears. Hard, the edges digging into his flesh.

  
He drags himself up, his mother trailing behind him, and leans against his car.

  
“All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away.”

  
He runs.

  
-

  
Billy finds himself in the woods behind his house. His mother is at the back door, beckoning him forward. He follows.

  
The sky splits, and more rain comes down. He trips, face down into the mud, and laughs.

  
“Seven days from now I will send rain on the earth for forty days and forty nights, and I will wipe from the face of the earth every living creature I have made.”

  
He stumbles to the door, fumbling with the door knob. He falls inside, sees Neil, and laughs. He sees bright lights and hears Susan’s voice cry out, and then Neil grabs him.

  
Shoves him against the wall. His head slams against the drywall, and he can’t stop laughing.

  
“And these shall go away into everlasting punishment.”

  
“Shut your goddamn mouth boy, where have you been? You have nerve, coming back in here after-”

  
“And I will feed them that oppress thee with their own flesh; and they shall be drunken with their own blood, as with sweet wine: and all flesh shall know that I the Lord am thy Saviour and thy Redeemer, the mighty One of Jacob.”

  
Neil drags him to the kitchen table, Susan ushers Max into her room. Billy wraiths around, trying to get out of Neil’s hold. He hears the belt leave Neil’s belt loops, feels his shirt being ripped off, feels the sting against his skin. And he laughs.

  
“And upon them that are left alive of you I will send a faintness into their hearts in the lands of their enemies; and the sound of a shaken leaf shall chase them; and they shall flee, as fleeing from a sword; and they shall fall when none pursueth.”

  
His lungs burning from the stress, his fingers scrambling for something to grab, and his mother tells him to sleep. And he does.


End file.
